Chapter 43: The Hammer Fiend Case (Part 12)

Li Rui walked quickly to the back yard and squatted down in front of a footprint in the mud. "It certainly looks like a size 43 rubber-soled shoe, but... but that's actually because a sock was worn over the outside of it."

His fingers gently brushed across the edge of the print. "The texture of the sock is quite distinctive—a diamond lattice pattern."

Just then, a gentle voice came from inside the room. "Li Rui, come take a look!"

She was standing by the eight-immortals table, an ultraviolet light in her hand illuminating the inner side of a table leg. "There's a complete fingerprint here. The killer must have left it while steadying himself against the table."

Li Rui walked over quickly, his gaze shifting back and forth between the fingerprint and the footprint. "Socks, fingerprints, dripping blood..."

His voice stopped abruptly. "The killer is injured!"

"Was he injured in the struggle?" Wen Rou's eyes lit up. "Could that be why he wore a sock over his shoe—to bandage a wound?"

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting its light on their solemn faces.

At that moment, they seemed to be back in the medical school laboratory, thrilled by every new discovery.

Only this time, their findings would help uncover the true face of a twisted soul.

Li Rui shook his head and said, "There are indeed signs of a struggle at the scene, but the victim clearly lacked the capacity to put up much of a fight, let alone inflict a serious injury on the killer."

Squatting down, Li Rui continued, "Judging from these footprints and blood drops, the blood was already there before the killer arrived; it wasn't left behind after the crime was committed."

"That means he was already injured before he came here," Wen Rou said.

"Yet in Xiaolizhuang, he wasn't injured, and he left quite calmly." Li Rui fell into deep thought.

Wen Rou said, "The injury must have happened in the past couple of days, while he was on the run!"

Just then, a booming voice rang out from outside the door.

"Well, well, I wondered who it was! Two forensic doctors, arriving at the scene this early!"

Li Rui and Wen Rou turned to see Han Junshan stepping toward them.

"Director Han? Why are you here?" Wen Rou asked in surprise.

"If you two could come, why couldn't I?" Han Junshan slipped on shoe covers and stepped into the crime scene. "What have you found?"

"We actually have a major breakthrough," Wen Rou said, with a hint of excitement.

"Oh?" Han Junshan raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."

"Unlike the previous two cases, this crime scene shows signs of a struggle. After a meticulous examination, we found the killer's blood, and we also lifted the killer's fingerprints from inside the house," Wen Rou said. "The blood and fingerprints have already been sent to the forensics department for analysis. This time, I have a gut feeling he won't get away."

Han Junshan said, "So you're already certain this killer is the perpetrator of the October 18th case?"

Wen Rou looked at Han Junshan in bewilderment and asked, "Director Han, is there any doubt about that?"

Han Junshan explained, "Because very little money was taken—only one hundred yuan—the Huishan police believe the killer committed a revenge murder. They think the perpetrator capitalized on the current 'notoriety' of the October 18th suspect to frame him, staging the scene to look like a burglary gone wrong. They've screened everyone in the vicinity who had a grudge against the victim, and compared blood and fingerprints, but they still came up empty-handed."

Li Rui gave a cold smile. "There's no need to go to all that trouble. As soon as the blood analysis results come back, we'll know everything."

Han Junshan nodded. "I think so too. However, before I came here, I had no idea the killer's blood had been detected at the scene, so the two of you have truly brought clarity out of the clouds."

Li Rui continued, "Director Han, even though the test results aren't out yet, I believe the chances of this being a frame-up or copycat crime are virtually zero."

"Give me your reasons," Han Junshan said.

"The reason is simple: the wounds," Li Rui stated firmly. "The wounds on the three victims this time are basically identical to the previous ones. It was done by the same person. If someone wants to copy a crime, they can imitate actions, but they cannot imitate the force and habits. That is my reason."

Han Junshan nodded and asked, "Any other findings?"

"Very little property was stolen from the scene, which made the killer furious," Li Rui said. "The four coins in the little boy's mouth were most likely stuffed there by the killer in a fit of rage after failing to find any more money!"

"What does that prove?" Han Junshan asked.

"It proves that the killer's psychological state is becoming more aggressive. He has shifted from being cautious from the very beginning to becoming reckless, which is why he left so many traces at the scene that never appeared before."

"Makes sense." Han Junshan nodded thoughtfully. "But that also puts us under greater pressure. The killer is growing frantic and unpredictable. There's no telling if he might strike again."

At that exact moment, the sound of a car door closing echoed from outside.

Lei Chen hurried over, the mud on his leather boots leaving dark tracks on the floor near the entrance.

"Director Han, the DNA match has been confirmed," he said, waving a document in his hand. "The blood sample belongs to the suspect of the October 18th case."

Li Rui was not surprised by this answer.

"Forensics also extracted trace amounts of sulfanilamide powder from the footprints," Lei Chen continued, "which indicates that the bastard is indeed injured. The wound is likely on his left ankle."

"Since this fellow is injured, he can't have gotten far. Order all local police stations to pay close attention and conduct a grid search. We must not let this fellow slip through our fingers!" Han Junshan commanded.

"Understood!"

On the way back, Li Rui looked at the frost-covered fields by the roadside. In the morning mist, the fallen wheat ears from the previous autumn harvest were faintly visible, and a familiar feeling welled up in his heart.

"Remember that field survey we did in Hebei that year?" Wen Rou pointed toward the distant wheat fields, asking with a look of fond longing.

"How could I forget?" Li Rui nodded. "Professor Liu made each of us catch ten frogs and bring them back to dissect in the experimental plots."

That had been an afternoon when the cicadas buzzed deafeningly. The hem of her white lab coat was stained with mud, and the body fluid that splashed out as the tip of her scalpel pierced the frog's abdomen shimmered with rainbow hues in the sunlight.

"You even remember that?" Wen Rou smiled, the hem of her white coat fluttering in the morning breeze like an injured egret.

"Let's go take a look at the fields," Li Rui said suddenly.

Right at that moment, in the wilderness thirty kilometers away, a terrified figure was trudging heavily through the mud. The wound on his left ankle was festering and suppurating inside a cheap nylon sock, and every step felt like treading on red-hot iron nails.

The birch forest after the rain exuded the scent of rotting leaves. Suddenly, he recalled the scene from that night—under the chilling moonlight, he had spoken to his own shadow, like a walking corpse conversing with its own soul.

It was the night of October 21st. A full day had passed, but whenever he thought of being interrogated, a lingering terror still gripped him.

He dared not venture into the city anymore; he could only hide in rural areas. The countryside was populous, complex, and lacked vigilance, making it safe.

Yet even in the countryside, he scurried about like a turtle pulling its head into its shell.

During the day, he drifted among various villages, occasionally engaging in petty theft to sustain himself.

At night, he sometimes slept in abandoned irrigation machine houses out in the fields, sometimes took shelter in watch-shacks guarding the crops, and sometimes curled up in huts built from sorghum stalks.

Meals were even more perfunctory and haphazard. When he had money, he bought salted duck eggs, mutton skewers, and cucumbers, believing these foods were highly nutritious. When he had no money, he would sneak into the fields to steal corn cobs and sweet potatoes to stave off hunger.

However, after the autumn harvest, the threshing grounds were swept clean and the wilderness stretched out boundlessly—making it neither easy to steal nor anywhere to hide.

Moreover, still haunted by lingering fear, he dared not commit thefts casually. As a result, his pockets were frequently empty, his stomach was equally empty, and he was dizzy with hunger. Several times, he thought of going into a village to beg for a meal, but the fear of being discovered always made him abandon the idea.